light Archives - Laurie Klein, Scribe

Going Deeper: And Everything Eddying into Light

Floor-to-ceiling windows frame acres of light.

The walls showcase B&W close-ups of architectural details: poems in stone. The photographer with the impeccable eye will also perform my root canal.

Scared and fretful yesterday, I memorized part of an old prayer. It’s still with me now, as I leaf through a glossy magazine, where posh Londoners show off their new home. One bathroom features a pschedelic paisley-on-steroids toilet. As you’ll know from previous posts, I’m acutely attuned to plumbing. I show Dreamer, then the receptionist, and we all laugh.

I turn the page. “Oh look. They also installed a personal pole dance room.”

More laughter.

Comic relief helps. A friend died under general anesthesia, a freak allergic reaction. I try to imagine her larking about heaven.

When the Anesthetist arrives, he’s witty, direct, and unhurried. A man I can trust. I tell him about my friend.

“I’ll watch over you,” he says.

Down comes the mask:

claustrophobia
soupy air
aroma of magic markers

“Hold my hand,” he says. “Squeeze as hard as you want.”

I summon the prayer, but it fragments: From this little room and this short hour . . .

“You’re doing great, Laurie.”

. . . I can lift up my mind beyond all time and space . . .

“You haven’t squeezed once.”

. . . unto Thee, the uncreated One . . .

“Just float.”

The mind shrugs. A bodily sigh. All is serene, surreal. Hypnotic. I’m a kite, riding a chemical thermal.

. . . until the light of Thy countenance illumines all my life.

Beneath the crown and dentin my diseased molar holds four canals, each one different. For over two hours Dr. T. wields drill and file. He rasps and reshapes, routing out wider routes, clear to the roots.

Then the bleaching. The final sealing. Like every painstaking work of God: artful, thorough, radically cleansing.

Another severe mercy.

I awake in a different room, brimming with light, still feeling held; tooth saved, the deep work done.

From this little room
and this short hour
I can lift up my mind
beyond all time and space
to Thee, the uncreated One,
until the light of Thy countenance
illumines all my life.

—John Baillie

Tell me your favorite thought or prayer for difficult times.

Photo by Daniel Frank on Unsplash

Saving Time: 2-minute Warning

by Laurie Klein 49 Chiming In

Saving Time? Yes, let’s.
But first …
my 50th High School Reunion:

Saving Time Cake — photo by Vicki Rieder

Only after flying to Wisconsin
did I realize
my former adolescent peers
were, and ever would be,
the keepers of my awkwardness.

They might bring up Rod McCool’s bash
where, handed my first beer
(no clue about pouring slowly or
tilting both can AND glass)
I baptized myself and
his absent parents’ white couch.

My boyfriend’s chagrin.
Rod McCool’s “!!&%#!!%#!”
Foam and lager and reek … O my!

At our most awkward,
we tell ourselves
we’ll never be cool enough.

Half a century later, I was
that clueless girl again, stalling,
afraid to brave the reunion.

During the first 2 minutes
no one mentioned my beer gaffe
(or numerous other follies).
Within those 2 minutes
and thereafter, I was hugged.
Kissed. Thoroughly welcomed.

I felt like Cinderella
twirling at The Ball.

O to be recognized,
touched at our wincing core,
that guarded, wistful corner
of the heart seemingly
doomed to always feel 16.

2 minutes
and my old outsider status
vaporized. I’d entered
a saving time. A healing time.

Which brings me here, now:

Scheduled to vanish,
2 minutes of daylight will
daily disappear,
until we turn back
our clocks, on November 4th,
and we are awarded 1 free hour
for a little more rest,
a little more dreaming …

Do you need rest?

Or a new dream?

We do.

My husband’s health is spiraling down.
Partly, it’s the genetic hand dealt him,
likely exacerbated
by the aftershocks and insults
anesthesia sometimes visits
upon the psyche and body.

We’ll see a UW Medical Center expert on Muscular Dystrophy
and 3 local specialists in other fields.

And we’ll move. Downsizing is here. For real.

One-story living,
one living story
unfolding …

I’ll share more in future posts.

Meanwhile, we’re turning back the marital clock,
recalling our madcap youth,
Dreamer and me in the Rambler,
cruising into a new town, setting up house.